An array of photographs covers the entire wall of the museum’s gallery. The presentation is visually striking, absorbing the viewer’s entire gaze, for the viewer is not able to step back enough to see the full view of the wall presentation from afar, into desert locations marked by the historically fraught architectural monument of the obelisk. These photographs are part of the exhibition David Taylor: Photographs at the Phoenix Art Museum, on view till October 16, 2016. Photographer David Taylor, who is currently Professor at University of Arizona, Tucson, documents the 276 obelisks lining the Mexico-United States border where daily life, particularly in border-city Tijuana, is both similar and different than in the United States—a point that Taylor acutely emphasizes in his photographs of school children and smugglers.

When one thinks of an obelisk monument, the typical image that springs to mind is the Washington Monument or the ancient obelisk from Egypt, where the structure originates, now found throughout Western European cities. Although smaller in size, the obelisk monuments that the International Boundary Commission began installing in the mid-19th century following the Mexican-U.S. war are just as magnificent in form and intricate in meaning as their aforementioned counterparts. Moreover, it’s remarkable that each of the 276 obelisks has its distinct qualities, which sets it apart from the rest, and this is due to Taylor’s artistic eye for detail, lightning, and placement. For example, his framing of the image allows the environment around the monument to be an equal or greater element in the composition. In one of the photographs, long, vertical electricity poles overshadow the diminutive obelisk, which ascends in space from the dark wall in the background. In another photograph, the border wall is also in the background, receding into the sunset lit distance; however, unlike in the previous photograph, the obelisk has a secure presence, as though it has presided steadfastly in that location for over a hundred years, despite geopolitical conflicts unsettling the surrounding environment.

Taylor sets up the wall and the monument—the austere versus the elegant—within the same composition to contrast how the ideal of a peaceful, shared border has changed in modern times to a walled border based on the present attitude of restriction and suspicion. Yet, historically the obelisk was not a symbol of peace. The Roman Empire and subsequent Western powers pillaged Egypt of its obelisks in order to install them in Rome and Paris as proof of their conquering might. And back in ancient Egypt, rulers relegated the construction of these obelisks to countless slave workers. Understood in this historical context, it can be argued that the obelisks lining the Mexico/U.S. border are no less injurious than the border wall, but no more effective either, for the purpose of both the wall (which Taylor’s photographs show parts of it composed of thin wire) and the monuments is emblematic of the psychological desire to keep the “Other” out without assuming real world solutions to complex socioeconomic, transnational problems plaguing both sides of the border.

In addition to the wall/monument juxtaposition, Taylor provides stunning views of tall obelisks against backdrops of desert mountains and city lights. These photographs go well together with larger prints, displayed in separate sections of the gallery, of Tijuana’s cityscapes, taken at or just after sunset. The wide, night view of an abandoned building has a resonating impression, particularly because it is the first photograph the viewer sees in the exhibition, placed under the exhibition’s title at the entrance of the gallery. Taylor captures keenly the melancholia enshrining this bare, unfinished building, standing alone on a hill to await its eventual demolition. It would be easy to conclude, from the stories we hear in the media, that the abandoned building is another testament to how enduring violence has affected cities in Mexico. Although this may be true, and I don’t think Taylor ignores the issue, an abandoned building could just as easily be found in a U.S. city, just as kids hanging in the schoolyard, as seen in one of Taylor’s photographs of a school in Tijuana.

Ultimately, what makes David Taylor’s study of the border so important is that hopefully the viewer will walk away from it with the knowledge of those incredible obelisk monuments and with the acknowledgement that ignoring Arizona’s proximity to the border or closing off the border are not adequate, humanizing long-term solutions for us and for the border towns and the residents represented in Taylor’s work.